


unacceptable loss

by demxrian



Series: baby borderline sehun [1]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anxiety, Borderline Personality Disorder, Established Relationship, Happy Ending, Learning To Communicate, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, hard conversations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-09
Updated: 2018-02-09
Packaged: 2019-03-15 18:30:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13619172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demxrian/pseuds/demxrian
Summary: Sehun goes through life avoiding confrontations of any kind. It works, mostly, until he finds himself in the middle of a mental breakdown at his best friend's apartment because he refuses to talk to his boyfriend about what's really bothering him.





	unacceptable loss

**Author's Note:**

> please heed the tags. this is a messy mental illness fic, written over the course of two days during two different mental breakdowns. if you read, please do so gently and with care.

It’s been a long fucking day. Sehun’s at the tail end of undergrad, which means Senior Seminars plus an Honors Thesis and today Sehun has had an exam, a paper due, and meetings with three different professors in the span of two hours. He’s done. He’s just done. He wants to go home, wants to crawl into bed and not think about shit for hours, wants Minseok to tell him he’s done well. Wants to hear Minseok say he’s proud of him. 

He probably shouldn’t be driving when he’s feeling as dissociative as he is, but he doesn’t really care. He lingers at red lights for a few seconds longer than he should once the light turns green, but not long enough for the people behind him to get annoyed and honk. But despite everything he makes it home safe, pulls into his regular parking spot, and turns the car off. He sits in the car for a minute - two, three, _ten_ \- before actually getting out. He doesn’t bother grabbing his backpack from the trunk. 

It takes him three times to get his key into the lock, anxiety building in his chest each time his hands shake so badly he can’t get the little piece of metal into the fucking door, but he manages it. And the anxiety melts away. 

The apartment is quiet, but Minseok’s shoes are by the door. Sehun wishes he could smile. He smiles on the inside, though, so that should count. He closes the door then toes off his shoes, leaving them next to Minseok’s, and wanders into the living room. Their unused second bedroom has been converted into an office - Minseok’s working on his doctorate and needs a quiet place to work without distractions - and the door is closed, but the light is on. 

Sehun doesn’t want to bother Minseok. He’s been working really hard lately and Sehun knows how frustrating academia can be, knows Minseok needs to be left alone. But Sehun also needs him. Sehun needs Minseok in a way he can’t vocalize, needs him in a way he can’t explain. 

Peeking his head in for just a moment should be fine, Sehun concludes. He’ll say hello, tell Minseok he loves him, and then retreat to the couch to binge watch something on Netflix (re: dissociate and not actually watch anything) until Minseok comes out to spend time with him. 

He feels kind of ridiculous and more than a little gross. His BPD isn’t normally this _needy_ , but there’s something about feeling exhausted and dead inside that just… it gets to him. Part of him wants to just sit down and let Minseok work on his shit without Sehun bothering him, but. Well. A bigger part of Sehun really doesn’t want to do that.

Sehun’s impulsive ass has him walking over to the office door without letting him sit and really consider his options. He finds himself with a hand on the doorknob, heart in his throat, and he slowly pushes the door open. 

Minseok’s sitting at his desk, glasses perched on the edge of his nose, bags under his eyes, and several empty coffee mugs littered everywhere - on top of his textbooks, on the bookshelf, one on the floor by his chair. Minseok hates clutter, hates feeling dirty, so to see the office in this state means he’s been deep in doctoral hell. 

Sehun immediately regrets coming into the room. But he’s already dug his grave, so he might as well hop right on in. “Hey,” he says, a little unsure. “You doing okay?” 

Minseok tears his eyes off of his computer screen and looks over at Sehun, blinking a little. “Not even a little bit,” he says, voice scratchy from disuse. He drags a hand down his face. “I feel like I’m about to lose my goddamn mind and my advisor wants me to submit my thesis early.” He picks up the coffee mug closest to the computer and takes a swig. He sets it down with an exhausted sigh. “I don’t have time to talk right now, Sehun. I’m sorry.” 

“It’s fine,” Sehun says. It really is fine. But also it’s not. Because now Sehun feels stupid. And he feels like a burden. And he’s wasted Minseok’s time and fuck. “I’ll talk to you later. Love you.” 

Sehun leaves the room without waiting for Minseok to answer. He makes sure to close the door as softly as possible, hoping Minseok can get back to work quickly.

It’s fine. Logically, Sehun knows it’s fine. He shouldn’t be so needy and so dependant and Minseok really does need to work on his thesis. But mental illness isn’t rational, and while his BPD drives him up the fucking wall Sehun feels like he’s taken a sudden nosedive, heading straight for the ground.

It’s fine. He’ll be fine. It’s not a big deal. It shouldn’t affect him like this. But it does, and Sehun can’t stop feeling the things he feels, and he hates it. 

He needs to get out of the apartment. Just standing in front of the office door leaves him feeling sick to his stomach and if he stays here any longer he’ll probably throw up or break down crying in the middle of the living room and he can’t let Minseok know how shitty he’s feeling. It wouldn’t be fair. He slides his shoes back on as quickly as he can and slips out the front door of their apartment, heading straight to his car. It’s fine, he reminds himself. Fine. 

He sits in the car for a minute - two, three, _ten_ \- before pulling out his phone and sending a quick text to his best friend and the fucking best person in the universe, Baekhyun. 

**sehun:** can i come over  
**sehun:** it’s urgent  
**sehun:** bad brain stuff  
**baekhyun:** get ur cute ass over here and let me love you  
**sehun:** thanks

*** 

Baekhyun welcomes Sehun into his apartment with a mug of hot chocolate and a hug. Sehun nearly starts crying then and there, but he lets Baekhyun corral him into the living room.

Baekhyun points at the couch. “Come on, you big ol’ puppy. Sit down and tell me what’s up.” 

Sehun sinks down onto Baekhyun’s couch, cupping the mug of hot chocolate in his hands. It’s steaming a little and smells absolutely delicious and for a moment Sehun forgets how disgusting he feels. But then he remembers and kind of wants to throw up. 

“I’m the worst person in the world,” he says, half-jokingly. 

“False.” Baekhyun smiles and it’s so goddamn understanding and Sehun truly doesn’t know what he did to deserve him. “What happened?” 

“I know it’s ridiculous,” Sehun starts, as if Baekhyun doesn’t already know him, doesn’t know how Sehun is, “but I wanted Minseok’s attention and he was busy and now I feel disgusting.” 

There’s an overwhelming need for Sehun to _make sure_ Baekhyun knows that Sehun sees how irrational his brain is, even though they’ve had talks like this hundreds of times, and Baekhyun knows Sehun’s brain probably better than Sehun does. Sehun just _needs_ Baekhyun to know that he’s aware it’s his mental illness, and that he hates what it does to him, and that he wishes more than anything else in this world that he was normal. 

“Did you tell him how you felt?” Baekhyun asks. 

“I would rather die.” 

Baekhyun doesn’t sigh at him, like most people would. He doesn’t judge. He listens, and asks questions, and lets Sehun be Sehun. And Sehun loves him for it. 

“I know you know this,” Baekhyun says, slowly, carefully, nose scrunched up as though this isn’t quite what he wants to say but doesn’t know how else to go about it, “but avoidance doesn’t help anything. It just prolongs your suffering.” 

Sehun hunches his shoulders a bit. Takes a sip of the hot chocolate. Breathes in. Steadies himself. “Yeah, but I can’t stop. And being aware of that disconnect is fucking awful, because I know the solution but I can’t go through with it.” He stares down at the mug in his hands, watches the little bubbles of foam pop and dissipate. “Maybe I could have said something the first time it happened,” he says, “ but I thought it was something I could overlook, like it wasn't a big deal, and I tried to ignore how badly it made me feel, you know? And I figured if I ignored it enough then maybe it would stop hurting, and I wouldn't have to make a big deal out of something so minor. But the longer I tried to ignore it, the worse I felt, and now it feels like it's too late. I should've said something the first few times, but I didn't, and I can't bring it up without talking about how much I've been hurting, and I don't know if I can do it. How am I supposed to talk to him about it? What if I can't? What if he thinks I’m being ridiculous, and brushes off what I say?” 

Sehun takes a breath. His hands shake, so he sets the mug on the coffee table and puts his hands into his lap, running his fingers across the seam of his jeans compulsively. “At this point I just want to walk away, Baekhyun. I don't know if I can do this anymore and I don't know if I’m strong enough to have this conversation with him.” 

“For what it's worth, I don't think it's too late.” Baekhyun’s hand is warm on Sehun’s back, comforting. “Avoidance always seems like the easier route, and you _can_ walk away. You always have the option of walking away. But that wouldn't be fair to you, and it wouldn't be fair to Minseok. I guess you have to decide if Minseok is an acceptable loss or not.”

And in that instant, Sehun realizes something. Minseok is not an acceptable loss. This whole situation fucking sucks and he hurts more than he cares to acknowledge, but running away instead of trying to work things out would be unacceptable. Minseok is too important and Sehun loves him too fucking much to let that happen. Baekhyun’s question put things into perspective for him. 

“Fuck,” he whispers, hoarse. “No. No he fucking isn’t. I need to talk to him. I need to-” Sehun cuts off, voice cracking. “I love him, Baekhyun. But I fucked up and I don't know how to fix it.”

“Nobody expects perfection from you. You're not perfect. Minseok’s not perfect. But if you're going to make this work, you need to be open and honest about what you need.” 

“I don't know if I can.”

“You said it yourself - losing Minseok would be unacceptable. Confrontation fucking sucks but it's a part of every relationship. I know you can do it.”

Sehun decides to suck it up. He’ll talk to Minseok tonight, and whatever happens… well, it happens. But first, he has some crying to do and Baekhyun’s shoulder is the perfect place to do it.

*** 

When Sehun arrives back at his apartment that night, he finds Minseok cleaning the living room. It already looks spotless, but Minseok has a tendency to clean when he’s bored, or anxious, or whenever, really.

He looks up when Sehun enters, his welcoming smile faltering when he sees Sehun’s red, puffy eyes. “Sehun,” he says, expression twisting into a mix of concern and worry, “are you okay?”

Sehun’s chest aches. “Not really.” He takes a moment to steady himself, then asks, “Can we talk?”

“Of course.”

Feeling devoid of energy, Sehun nods and trudges over to the couch, sinking down onto it and almost wishing it would swallow him whole. He pulls his knees up to his chest, feet settled onto the cushion. Minseok sits down next to him, knee up on the other cushion and facing Sehun. 

“I’m listening,” Minseok says. “Tell me what’s bothering you.” 

“I haven’t been honest with you about what I need and how I feel,” Sehun begins, anxiety spiking, but he keeps talking anyway, “and I know it’s not your fault, and I should have sat you down and had this conversation earlier, but I couldn’t. I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay,” Minseok says, warm and steady. “We’re talking about it now. That’s what matters.” 

Sehun’s relief at his words is palpable. At the same time, though, talking about it is terrifying and Sehun’s anxiety begins to spike again.

They’re both quiet for a moment, but then Minseok speaks up. “I’d like to know exactly what it is that’s upsetting you,” he says. “I want to talk about it and see what we can do.”

“I feel stupid bringing it up,” Sehun admits, eyes downcast. “And I fucking know it’s ridiculous.” 

Minseok shakes his head. “It’s not ridiculous if it upsets you this much.” 

Sehun wants to cry. Instead, he tries to smile. It’s a weak imitation of the real thing. “It’s just… sometimes I need you? I know you’re busy and I would never want to get in the way of your thesis, so when I come to you and you can’t talk my brain tells me that I’m a horrible person for interrupting you. Or when you’re having a bad day, my brain tells me it’s all my fault. I know it’s not true, and I figured if I ignored this for long enough then it would just… stop making me feel so bad? But it didn’t, and by then it felt like I had waited too long to say something and it felt like I had missed my opportunity so I tried sucking it up. I did. But instead I kept thinking about it, and hating myself, and it took me to a really dark place. It's not fair to you and it's not fair to me and I’m sorry.”

“Baby,” Minseok says. “I can’t pretend to understand what you’re going through. I don’t. And I don’t know what I can do to help. I need you to tell me what’ll work for you. But I love you, and I want to help you, and I’d do anything for you. Just…” he takes a breath, “just tell me what you need. I’ll do it.” 

Sehun doesn’t know what he needs. That’s the problem. “I don’t know,” he admits. “There are things we can try, but I don’t know if they’ll work, and I’m terrified of trying something and then feeling awful when it turns out it’s not a viable solution.” 

“I’ll do it all, Sehun. I don’t mind trying a hundred different things if it’ll help you. But I need you to tell me if it’s working or not. Do you think we can try?”

Sehun nods, slow and tentative. A tendril of hope flares in his chest, and he’s terrified of grasping onto it. But Minseok makes him want to, makes him want to grab it and hold on tight and never let go. “One thing that might help is… just a reassurance that I haven’t bothered you? Like if you’re working and I come in and you can’t talk, just a reminder that it was still okay for me to ask you if you’re available would… really help, I think. I always feel guilty after. Or if you’re having a bad day, a concrete reminder that it’s not my fault would help with that, too.” 

“I can do that.” Minseok smiles softly and it’s so full of love and understanding and Sehun’s heart aches. 

“I’m not going to lie.” Sehun closes his eyes and takes a breath. His eyes sting. He doesn’t want to say it, but he has to be honest. Minseok needs to know how much this affects him. “I was close to walking away, close to choosing avoidance instead of talking it out. I thought it was too late, and I was scared. I still am. But I can’t lose you, Minseok.” He wipes away his tears with the corner of his sweater, and makes eye contact with Minseok. There’s no judgment on Minseok’s face, only love and pain. “There are acceptable losses and unacceptable losses and tonight I realized you’re an unacceptable loss.” 

“Baby.” Minseok takes a moment before speaking again. “I know it’s hard for you to speak up sometimes. Mental illness can be horrendous. I get it. And I know it would be unreasonable for me to expect you to overcome it every time when something hurts you. But I love you. I do. And I’m here for you. I would never knowingly hurt you.” He reaches out a hand, cautiously, and Sehun takes it. Minseok squeezes his hand softly, carefully. “If something I say or do hurts you, and you can’t tell me, please know it’s not intentional. You’re so fucking important to me and I would never want to see you in pain.” 

Sehun sniffles. “I’ll work on it. Communication is a two-way street, I know.” 

“You don’t have to fight it alone. If you can’t talk to me, you’ve always got Baekhyun. You’ve got your therapist. I know you have a hard time believing it, but we’re here for you, Sehun.” His eyes glisten and Sehun doesn’t think he's ever seen Minseok cry before. Minseok smiles at him, soft and loving. “I’m proud of you. I want you to know I recognize how hard it was for you to open up and I appreciate it.” Minseok squeezes Sehun’s hand and Sehun kind of wants to cry again. “I love you so much, baby. When I said I would do anything for you, I meant it.” 

“I love you, too.” He wipes his eyes with his free hand. The sleeve of his sweater is fucking disgusting, but Sehun doesn’t care. “I appreciate you. I was terrified and I felt so stupid about all of this, and even though I still feel ridiculous… it’s a feeling I can manage? Just… knowing you’re not judging me. It helps a lot. More than you know.” 

Minseok tugs on Sehun’s hand, pulls him into his arms and holds him close. “You’re so important, Sehun.” 

Sehun doesn’t respond, throat tight. But he feels safe, loved, wanted. Maybe Sehun can grab hold of that little tendril of hope in his chest, hold it close, treasure it. Maybe Minseok will help it grow. Maybe everything will be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> so. i’m mourning an acceptable loss right now and needed a cathartic release. the details are very different but the sentiment here is the same. i needed sehun to work his shit out; i couldn’t handle doing it myself. 
> 
> update: i did the fuckin thing im amazing and i want to thank sehun for giving me the courage wow. also im a psychic because my conversation played out almost exactly like theirs [thinking emoji] anyway moral of the story is: communicate even if u feel like ur gonna fuckin die. it's important. 
> 
> now playing: mystery skulls 'losing my mind' and the tech thieves 'light our fire' 
> 
>  
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/syrazes)


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